


Treading Lightly

by patiently_yours



Series: This Moment, Right Now [1]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 23:55:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4724972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patiently_yours/pseuds/patiently_yours
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the void after 3x08, Phryne returns from her trip and resumes her relationship with her Inspector.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Treading Lightly

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own these characters, but I do enjoy getting to use them. And I've decided that Phryne would only fly to Singapore, since I did not wish for there to be a gap of several months between the scene in the airfield and Jack and Phryne's reunion.

Jack tripped over one of Phryne’s stilettos on his way to the tray of drinks that Mr. Butler had left out for them. For a second, he faltered, wondering whether or not he should tease her about leaving her things about, but one glance at her, curled up on the chaise lounge with her knees hugged to her chest, decided his silence. It wasn’t that Phryne was messy, not really. It was just that she was used to being looked after by Mr. Butler and by Dot, and so she did not always think of the small details, such as putting her shoes away or clearing the drinks glasses before she left a room for the night. After only a week of being welcomed more officially into her home and her life, Jack was already finding himself taking the efficient care of Mr. Butler for granted. 

When Phryne had shouted for Jack to come after her, then jumped onto an aeroplane and flown off into the horizon, Jack had been torn. His immediate reaction was to look into booking passage on the next ship to London. His second was to sit down in a chair to wait for his blood pressure to reach a normal level again after seeing the price of passage. It was then that he received a telegram from Phryne, brought in to him by a constable whose name he was forever forgetting, telling him that she had landed in Singapore and would be returning to Melbourne as soon as she had watched her father’s ship depart with him firmly in place on its deck, waving farewell to her. 

Jack finally began to understand those enigmatic words – “Come after me.”

It was Phryne’s offering, Phryne’s go-ahead for the progression of their relationship. It was her prodding for him to let go of his last reserves of fear and pride that kept him from risking their increasingly unnamed intimacy in the hopes of putting a name to what already consumed his life. She was not expecting him to abandon his life and empty his bank account in order to try to win her. She was telling him that he had already won her, and that he needed to be prepared to come after his prize.

Phryne had arrived back in Melbourne a mere ten days after leaving, and by a stroke of luck and more than a few veiled threats to the men at the airfield, Jack managed to be awaiting Phryne when she landed. He pulled his sedan up the hangar and got out of the motorcar, touching the brim of his hat when Phryne emerged from the hangar and stopped short.

“I thought you’d be wanting a ride home,” he’d said. “I can take you back to St. Kilda, or, if you’re inclined, there’s been a body found down by the docks that I’m on my way to investigate.”

He hadn’t been sure if she’d thrown herself into his arms at that point because of his presence, or because of the welcome home gift of a murder, but either way, she’d ended up in his motorcar with her hand pressed firmly on his thigh.

And yet, despite that promising beginning, it had gone on seven days now since she’d come home, and while Jack had seen her every one of those days, and while they had engaged in several energetic bouts of kissing that had steamed up the windows of Jack’s motorcar, they had yet to progress their relationship to the boudoir. The most surprising part for Jack was that it had not been his decision to take things at a slower pace. Once he had decided to give in to his heart’s keenest desire for Miss Fisher, he had been all in. But she had yet to initiate more; in fact, she seemed to enjoy slowly getting to know her Inspector more intimately. 

There was a hint of a shadow under Phryne’s eyes, more visible now that her face was devoid of make up, and Jack was reminded that she had hardly paused for a moment’s rest since returning to Melbourne. While she was the picture of vivacious energy, he knew that she was also a mere mortal. She needed time to rest and to let go of the stress that had come with her father’s visit to the Antipodes. 

Jack took off his suit jacket and waistcoat, laying them carefully on the chair across from Phryne. He rolled up his sleeves, and when he looked back at Phryne, he saw that she was watching his forearms with interest. He smiled at her and knelt in front of her, taking one of her feet in his hand.

“Jack?” asked Phryne, and he heard the edge of panic in her voice.

Jack ran his thumb over the arch of Phryne’s foot, pressing gently. She gasped, although he could still feel the tension pouring out of her body, and he pressed his thumb again.

“Relax, Phryne,” he said, looking up and meeting her eyes.

“But Jack-” she began, before losing her words and frowning at him.

“Phryne, it’s just me,” he told her, running his hand over her ankle and rotating it slowly.

“I know, but-” she began, and he could tell that she wanted to pull her leg away, that she wanted to curl into herself again. The boudoir she could handle – she knew who was in control there. The flirtations at crime scenes, in his office, in this very parlour, she thrived on, because she knew how to push a situation off-balance and to her advantage. And she knew where the limits lay and how to push past them. There were consequences that she could calculate, risks she could account for.

But here, after the crime had been solved and with Jack’s vast attention focused on her, with his hands sure and full of knowing –

Here, with his hands full of her feet, and her heart, and the quiet edge that she’d not thought to let other’s see-

“It’s okay,” Jack murmured, never dropping his eyes as he ran his fingers over her ankle gently. 

“Is it?” asked Phryne, meeting Jack’s gaze with the greatest bravery she possessed.

Jack smiled then, a smile of absolute care that drew all of the breath from Phryne’s lungs. Her foot relaxed of its own volition, and she fell further back into the chaise lounge, unable to support herself.

“I know you, Phryne,” said Jack finally, his fingers moving to the ball of her foot. “I know you, and I see you.”

“And?” asked Phryne, but she couldn’t quite achieve the teasing that she’d been trying for.

But Jack didn’t say the silent words they both knew – “and I love you,” and Phryne took the throw pillow from behind her back and hugged it to her chest. It had been a long week, a relentless string of seven days, and despite her declarations of independence and her lack of need for a man, she found herself craving the man at her feet with a ferocity that threatened to drive her mad. And that was why she knew that she must tread lightly. Because he could give his heart to her in a flash – for his steadfast, noble heart there was no other way – but her surrender would mean that she would possess his love for the rest of their lives, whether they part or no, and that responsibility demanded a thoughtfulness that she’d avoided since the day she’d learned that love could destroy her carefully constructed life. 

And this man’s love would destroy her carefully constructed life, if she let him in, because he was changing her, damn that Jack Robinson. And she was finding that she did not altogether dislike the changes he was inspiring. For she found herself more caring, more gentle, more willing to let others in. It was as if he called out in her the very best things that she had tried to hide. As if he saw them and called them to light.

She saw a change in him as well. He was more carefree, more willing to let go of his pre-determined ways. And he would have to be, if he was to be hers, because there were some aspects of Phryne Fisher that would not change for anyone.

But he would never ask her to change.

No, he only asked to be allowed in.

Phryne let her foot go limp, then, as she surrendered to his ministrations. She tilted her head back and sank into the chaise lounge, and when Jack massaged the arch of her foot again, she let out a groan that set his blood on fire. He went still, and when she opened her eyes to look at him, the intensity of his gaze sent a thrill up her spine.

“Phryne,” Jack whispered, his voice ragged. 

He got to his feet, his balance a bit unsteady, and Phryne rose to meet him. Her head barely reached his shoulders without her heels to compensate for her height, and she wound her arms around Jack’s neck, pulling him down to her level.

Phryne found that she fit perfectly into his arms, even without her stilettos, and she rather liked the way he curved around her like a well-worn coat. He was warm and strong although, at the moment, he was not particularly safe. His teeth caught her earlobe, and his fingers found her hips at the spot where her camisole rode up, and Phryne found herself caught between icy chills and an inferno.

“I’m glad you came after me,” she whispered against his hair as his mouth found her collarbone.

Jack smiled, his lips curving against her skin and his fingers brushing her spine. He pulled away just enough to meet her eyes.

“I’m glad you let me in.”


End file.
